


Five People Who Taught Sean Parker How to Be an Adult

by roaroftheninth



Category: Social Network (2010)
Genre: Gen, Kink Meme, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-03
Updated: 2013-04-03
Packaged: 2017-12-07 09:54:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/747171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roaroftheninth/pseuds/roaroftheninth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Dude, I need a lifestyle change.” Sean leans back in his chair and rests his neck against the back of it. “I'm too old to be making out with chicks at foam parties, letting older chicks get all excited because I let them put their hands up my shirt, and running around doing scavenger hunts with 18-year-olds.”</p><p>“Not even true,” Dustin protests. “You can binge drink until the end of college. It’s not alcoholism until you’re twenty-five.”</p><p>What do Mark, Christy, Dustin, Chris, and Eduardo all have in common?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five People Who Taught Sean Parker How to Be an Adult

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is courtesy of the TSN kink_meme, and the following prompt from TFLN: "(850): Dude, I need a lifestyle change. I'm to old to be making out with chicks in foam parties, letting older chicks get all excited because I let them put their hands up my shirt, and running around doing scavenger hunts with 18 yr old chicks." In addition, it is not meant to be chronological (but some parts kinda work like that).

**1\. Dustin  
**  
  
“Bro. Sean. Bro. Sean. Bro. Sean.  _Bro_.”  
  
Sean squints into his empty red solo cup. “What?”  
  
“Please be my beer pong partner.” Dustin puts a finger on the edge of Sean’s cup and tips it down. He insinuates his face into Sean’s field of vision instead. “Please, Sean, you have to.”  
  
“I thought Chris was good at beer pong,” Sean says.  
  
“He is. That’s why I need you as my partner or he’s going to end me.”  
  
“I can’t be your beer pong partner,” Sean replies. “I need to sit in here and be all pensive and shit.”  
  
Dustin gives a melodramatic sigh. “Don’t be pensive. Thinking only leads to bad decisions.”  
  
“Dude, I need a lifestyle change.” Sean leans back in his chair and rests his neck against the back of it. “I'm too old to be making out with chicks at foam parties, letting older chicks get all excited because I let them put their hands up my shirt, and running around doing scavenger hunts with 18-year-olds.”  
  
“Not even true,” Dustin protests. “You can binge drink until the end of college. It’s not alcoholism until you’re twenty-five.”  
  
Sean glances at him. “I’m twenty-seven.”  
  
“Oh.” Dustin looks past Sean at the lawn outside the screen door and makes a face. “Is that a llama?”  
  
Sean doesn’t even have to turn around. “Nope. Alpaca.”  
  
Dustin frowns. “Are you sure? It looks like a llama.”  
  
“Nah, man. It’s too smiley. Alpacas are smiley motherfuckers.”  
  
Dustin just shrugs and accepts it for what it is. Sometimes shit gets weird at parties at which Sean is in attendance. It’s not that he plans it that way, necessarily; it’s either that he just goes to the weird parties because that’s who he is, or the weird shit follows _him_ around. Either way, there’s an alpaca on the lawn and Dustin just isn’t going to question it.  
  
“What do you want to be?” Dustin chews on the edge of his cup without supporting it with his hands. “When you grow up?”  
  
Sean shrugs. “I  _am_  grown up. So are you, D-Man, like it or not.”  
  
“Answer the question.”  
  
Sean shrugs again. “I want to… I want to always be on the next ship out.”  
  
“Is that an analogy?” Dustin asks.  
  
“No, I really enjoy sailing.”  
  
Dustin looks like he’s not sure whether that’s sarcasm or not. He chooses to move past it and shakes his head. “You’re wrong, by the way. I’m not a grown-up.” His cup falls from his mouth and he snatches it up immediately, as though there is some kind of five-second rule like there is for food. Like that isn’t statement enough in its own right, he continues, “I eat peanut butter sandwiches for every meal and leave my underwear on the floor. Being an adult is like… reading the newspaper and wearing matching socks and going to bed at 10:30.”  
  
Sean snorts. “Sounds like Chris.”  
  
“It _is_ Chris,” Dustin says, a little wistful. “You know he’s graduating this year?”  
  
“Good for him,” Sean replies.  
  
“It is good for him. He always wanted it more than we did, you know? He never took it for granted.” Dustin flops down in the chair across from Sean. “So is this it? Is this being a grown-up?”  
  
“Fuck if I know.” Sean taps his fingers lightly against the table. “What do you think, D-Man? Am I too old for this shit?”  
  
Dustin considers it. “I don’t think you’re too old for anything until you start asking yourself if you are. Because then your heart’s not in it anymore.”   
  
Sean nods along. Then he stands up. “Pro tip: Blowing on the ping-pong ball isn’t cheating.”  
  
Dustin looks startled. “What?”  
  
“When the other team is trying to sink a ball. In beer pong. Blowing it away from your cups, isn’t cheating.”  
  
Dustin thinks about it. “I’m pretty sure that’s cheating.”  
  
“Definitely not cheating,” Sean tells him. “If beer pong were an Olympic sport, I’d be first in line. Trust the expert.”  
  
He wanders out the back door.  
  
“Where are you going?” Dustin calls.  
  
“Home. Bed,” Sean replies over his shoulder.   
  
Dustin stares. It’s barely midnight.  
  
“And I want to find that random-ass alpaca,” Sean adds, his voice fainter. “That is next-level weird, even for me. Why are they always  _smiling_ , what’s that about – oh,  _shit_ , Alpaca, do not jump out of the bushes like that. Don’t you fucking smile at me.”  
  
And then eventually his voice fades away completely, and Dustin gingerly closes the kitchen door. If alpacas eat people, he in no way wants to find out first-hand.

 

 **2\. Mark  
**  
  
“Mark, shit. This isn’t my  _first rodeo_.”  
  
Sean looks earnest and upset, and Mark wonders briefly how long Sean has seemed utterly human to him. It wasn’t always that way.   
  
“If I even had cocaine, do you really think I’d get caught with it?” Sean forgets, when he’s riled up, that Mark doesn’t participate in conversations, as such; he listens, and draws conclusions, but no one ever knows until he announces said conclusions precisely how he feels about what anyone has said. Right now, anything he adds into the stream of dialogue is just stirring the pot, to see what he can get out of Sean.   
  
“You’ve been caught with it before,” Mark reminds him.   
  
“Exactly, and I learned my lesson.” Sean leans forward. “This is fucking  _bogus_ , Mark. You know it is.”  
  
Mark simply watches him. He wonders what Sean’s reading into his face right now; people have an irritating but fascinating tendency to project things into his expression that aren’t there. Whatever they think they see tells Mark a lot about them as a person.  
  
“I need you on my side, man.” Sean shakes his head. “People are always trying to sabotage me, sabotage  _us_ , Facebook – ”  
  
“I don’t think so.” Mark interrupts him like he hasn’t even been speaking, and it’s then that even Mark, with his limited ability to gauge other peoples’ feelings, knows that Sean sees the writing on the wall.  
  
“What?”  
  
“Take some responsibility,” Mark tells him. “You have to, Sean. At some point, you have to _take responsibility_ for your actions.”  
  
“I…” Sean swallows. He scrubs a hand across the top of his head. All of his nervous ticks are out in full force right now, and he’s just a man, not a legend. Not to Mark; not anymore. “Well, I’m sorry about how this looks for us, Mark. You know I’m all about Facebook, heart and soul.”  
  
“I know.” Mark isn’t some idiot who doesn’t learn from his mistakes, either; maybe he doesn’t think Sean is a god anymore, but he’s not going to drive him away. He’s going to make this as smooth as he can, given the circumstances, because he didn’t bother last time and it was to his own detriment. And Eduardo’s, although if Mark mentioned aloud that he was considering Eduardo’s feelings about the whole affair, Eduardo would tell him not to do him any fucking favours.   
  
“Remember the golden days? Right off the top?” Sean smiles, even though he looks a little bitter. “Man.”  
  
Mark watches him. “You’ll meet with our biggest investors tomorrow. They’ll suggest that you resign. You’ll retain ownership in the company but you won’t be officially linked with us in any other capacity.”  
  
Sean nods and nods, for longer than Mark thinks you really need to nod, to agree with a thing like that. It’s final, but just for Sean. It’s a close-bracket and there are thousands of lines of code to come after, for Facebook and Mark.   
  
“Are we done here?” Sean asks.  
  
Mark gives one quick jerk of his head. That’s all you need, for a close-bracket. “We’re done.”  
  
Sean stops before he reaches the doorway. “I’m sorry.”  
  
“We’re done,” Mark repeats.   
  
And then Sean is gone.

 

 **3\. Chris  
**  
  
Chris only lets go of Sean’s arm once they’re hidden around the edge of the house.  
  
“You’re a mess,” Chris says flatly.  
  
“I’m not,” Sean replies. It’s true, he thinks; he’s wearing a nice jacket and he’s only a little bit more jittery than normal.  
  
“You can’t show up at someone’s wedding like this,” Chris tells him, smoothing out the wrinkles in Sean’s jacket in a brisk, business-like way. “It’s disrespectful.”  
  
“Yeah, but, you know I don’t mean to be disrespectful,” Sean protests.  
  
“I do know that,” Chris replies. “My mother doesn’t know that. Sean – my Sean doesn’t know that, either. They’ve heard all the stories and they think you’re here to make a spectacle of yourself.”  
  
“I’m usually a lot more fun when I’m making a spectacle of myself,” Sean points out. When Chris only raises an eyebrow, Sean relents. “What do you want me to do? I ran out of my anxiety meds yesterday morning. I keep forgetting to get the prescription filled. That’s why I’m bugging out.”  
  
“Well, first of all, here.” Chris loosens his tie, takes it off, and re-ties it around Sean’s neck. “Weddings aren’t known for being business-casual, Sean, Jesus.”  
  
Sean does his best to look down at the neat knot Chris has tied. “Thanks, dude, but don’t you need a tie? It’s your wedding.”  
  
“Believe it or not, I own more than one,” Chris says wryly. He eyes Sean, still not entirely happy with what he sees. “Shit. Okay. Nothing much I can do about the meds but I need you to stay away from coffee and alcohol, at least until the toasts are over and there’s less chance of you doing something ridiculous.”  
  
“Me? Ridiculous?”  
  
“Not a joke, Sean.”  
  
Sean rolls his shoulders. “I wasn’t even invited until Eduardo said he couldn’t make it. I think I deserve to raise a small amount of hell.”  
  
Chris places a palm flat against Sean’s chest and pushes him – _hard_ – against the wall. Sean honestly wouldn’t have given Chris credit for being that strong.  
  
“If you ruin my wedding, so help me, my dad owns a shotgun, a shovel, and forty acres and  _they will never find you_.”  
  
Sean stares at him. Chris releases him.  
  
“Southern justice?” Sean asks, aiming for levity.  
  
Chris doffs an imaginary cowboy hat as he goes back around the corner. “Yee-haw.”

 

 **4\. Eduardo  
**  
  
“So the area code says Singapore, but the only person I know in Singapore wouldn’t be calling me,” Sean says. He’s lying on his back on the couch, tossing raisins into the air and catching them in his mouth. Every now and again one of them shot-guns down his throat and he almost chokes, but he figures that’s what keeps the game lively.   
  
“Oh, really?” Eduardo sounds much calmer than the last time Sean saw him. “Because I read on Twitter that you and I are pals.”  
  
“Yeah, Twitter.” Sean doesn’t have anything to say about Twitter, really; it has its uses. He fires another raisin into the air. It bounces off his cheek. “Are you saying we’re not pals, Eduardo?”  
  
“I just don’t really like you in any capacity,” Eduardo replies.  
  
“Oh? I’m just  _pining_  after you.” Sean grins. “I think it’s fun that you called me about this.”  
  
“You can post whatever lies you want on Twitter, just don’t drag my name into them,” Eduardo tells him calmly. “But that’s not why I called.”  
  
Sean brushes an errant raisin out of his hair. “Are you sure? Because you opened with that one.”  
  
“I know what happened between you and Mark,” Eduardo says, and for some reason, it sounds worse to Sean when it comes out of Eduardo’s mouth.  
  
“You don’t know the first thing about what happened between me and Mark,” Sean corrects.  
  
“I know he dropped you like he dropped me.”  
  
Sean wants to dispute it, wants to argue facts with Eduardo, but seriously, why is it even a thing they need to talk about? “I’m not crying myself to sleep over it.”  
  
“Yeah, I know.” There’s a brief silence. “I always thought that when this day came, I’d call you and gloat.”  
  
“Gloat away,” Sean invites.  
  
“No,” Eduardo replies. “No, I don’t want to. I thought I would, but I don’t.”  
  
“How big of you,” Sean says dryly.   
  
“It just really made me realize that you didn’t steal Mark from me,” Eduardo says simply. “Mark didn’t care about me, or you, or anything except Facebook. It’s always been about Facebook.”  
  
Sean raises his eyebrows, even though Eduardo can’t see him. “That’s a really sad assessment.”  
  
“Do you think I’m wrong?”  
  
Sean shrugs as he tosses yet another raisin. “I think you should give Mark more credit.”  
  
“The funny thing about credit,” Eduardo says, “is that you have to earn it.”  
  
Sean can’t argue with that. “Well, don’t put you and me in the same boat, Eduardo. I still talk to Mark.”  
  
“You weren’t his best friend,” Eduardo replies, with only a trace of bitterness. “And you weren’t twenty-one, or new to the business, and Mark fired a warning shot across your bow before he sank you. He had to have. You don’t get caught with drugs as many times as you’ve been caught without getting warnings.”  
  
“Yeah, maybe.” Sean wonders how often Eduardo thinks of these things. “But I think the key part is that I used Mark as much as he used me. We knew where we stood with each other. You always looked at him with big goddamn stars in your eyes.”  
  
“You played him like a violin,” Eduardo agrees. He's thoughtful, like time has also given him some distance. “I was kind of jealous about that.”  
  
“We’re all disposable, though,” Sean says, dismissing it. “It’s Mark’s vision. Always will be. He needs you until he doesn’t.” Sean is consistently surprised to discover that he harbours no long-lasting bitterness about that.  
  
Eduardo is quiet for a moment. “When Chris and Dustin go – and they will – he’ll be all alone there.”  
  
Sean nods along. “Up in his tower,” he replies. “Just the way he likes it.”

 

 **5\. Christy  
**  
  
Christy is trying to wrestle the back onto an earring when there’s a knock on her front door. It’s not even six a.m.  
  
When she opens it, Christy wonders why she still bothers to be surprised. Sean is there, holding up a very drunk, nearly unconscious –   
  
“ _Eduardo_?”  
  
Sean puts out a hand to keep Christy from shutting the door in their faces. “We just need to crash. Sleep it off for a couple of hours. Then we’ll be out of your hair.”  
  
Christy grits her teeth. “I have to go to  _work_. You know how the hours of the day work for regular people, right?”  
  
“Yeah, but, I can’t find a cab, especially one that’ll take us when I practically have to carry this guy. And you’re the only person I know who lives around here. And I missed your extreme paranoia and sense of fun.”  
  
Christy drills holes in him with her eyes. “Tread carefully. Your stupidity is about to exceed the limits of my medication.”  
  
Sean gives her his best endearing look. “Please, Christy. I swear on every Appletini in the world that we won’t be any trouble.”  
  
Christy folds her arms. “Why are you drunk with Eduardo Saverin? I need you to paint this picture for me.”  
  
Sean looks at Eduardo, who’s leaning into him, his eyes drifting shut and out of focus. “Mark fucked us. Both of us. We’re commiserating.”  
  
“I thought you were okay with what happened with Mark,” Christy says suspiciously.  
  
“Oh, I am. I think he’s a genius and the tech rockstar of his generation,” Sean replies honestly. “But he did kind of fuck us.”  
  
“So, what?” Christy asks. “Eduardo just flew in from Singapore to get White-Girl Wasted with you?”  
  
“No, no. He was the country, ironically enough, for a shareholders’ meeting.” Sean grins. “We didn’t make it.”  
  
Christy stares hard at them both for a long moment, then sighs and reluctantly steps aside. “Do not,  _do not_  fuck anything up,” she warns, seemingly regretting it from the moment Sean drags Eduardo past her. “Tell him when he wakes up that I still think he’s an asshole. And don’t you dare pull a stunt like this again, Sean Parker. Do you understand?”  
  
Sean smiles brightly at her as he leverages Eduardo onto the couch. The latter falls asleep at once. Sean steps back, and he and Christy stand side by side, watching him begin to snore.  
  
“I forgot that he looks kind of sweet like that,” Christy says.  
  
“That’s what was going through your mind?” Sean asks. “I was wondering how soon we can start drawing dicks on his face.”  
  
Christy rolls her eyes. “You haven’t changed.”  
  
“Actually.” Sean thinks about it. “Maybe I have.”  
  
Christy shakes her head. “Seriously, though. Out of my apartment by midday at the  _latest_. Okay? This isn’t college. You don’t get to crash on my $2500 couch for the weekend.”  
  
“Yeah, I’m starting to get that,” Sean replies. He kind of wonders where the time went on this one. Struck by inspiration, or maybe nostalgia, he says, “Hey. You want to get drinks sometime? Like real, adult people?”  
  
Christy studies him. “No,” she says at last. “No, I don’t think so.”  
  
Sean, baffled, watches her snag her purse from the hall table and do one last check of her hair in the hallway mirror. She glances back at him. “Everyone likes that fun guy who brings the party when they’re nineteen years old. But eventually you need someone to help you move and watch your kids and commiserate with over work, and that party guy stops fitting.”  
  
There's a beat. Then Sean admits: “Yeah, I’m starting to get that, too.”  
  
Christy strolls toward the door. “You’ll find a new hat to wear, Sean. You always do.”  
  
When she’s gone, Sean restricts himself to drawing one, solitary dick on Eduardo’s face.


End file.
